Of Love and War
by PrincessBen55
Summary: After thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes, Drake has given up on love. Then he meets an amazing young woman, and he can't help the way he unexpectedly falls for her. With his amar gone, Drake knows he only has one lifetime left; and he wants to make it worth something.
1. Assassins

Corinne gazed wearily at her expansive bookshelf, and sighed. Though there were many books packed there- fifty-two, to be precise- she had read every single one of them at least five times before. But she was so bored! And there wasn't much else she could do- she'd already gone outside to exercise. She couldn't remember doing it, but her slightly aching muscles certainly did.

Twisting her mouth as she often did when trying to make a decision, Corrine searched for a book she hadn't read in a while. She finally pulled down a thick volume bound in black leather with the title embossed in grandiose gold lettering: "The Adventures of Luke Lionheart". She took the book over to her mother's old rocking chair, curled up, and began to read. She had only just begun to lament the lack of female champions in literature when a noise from outside startled her: squelching footsteps followed by voices.

"It's late. Maybe she's asleep." Said a gruff, masculine voice.

"It doesn't matter," Replied a second voice, also male. "The Pythoness is only one; we are four."

Corinne put her book down as he voices grew louder and closer. She got to her feet as four men entered, staring confusedly around them and at each other. Three were armored and all four were armed, though they looked puzzled as to why. Nevertheless, Corinne carefully clutched a dagger behind her back.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice strong despite her wariness.  
The man in front stared at her for a moment, a look of consternation on his scarred face. "I don't know." He replied despairingly. Corinne recognized his voice as the second who has spoken.

"Neither do I." Said the man without armor. He wore an eyepatch and carried a sword, which he sheathed. "Where am I?"

"You are in the abode of the Pythoness." Corinne said carefully, "But I'm afraid she's been dead for some time now."

This information failed to register with her visitors. Realizing they were not a threat, Corinne decided to act kindly toward them. "Please, make yourselves comfortable." She told them, smiling. They seemed to take comfort from her friendly manner, putting away their weapons and seating themselves on cushions on the floor. "Is there anything I can get you?" Asked Corinne, something to drink, maybe?"

"Yeah," Grinned the man with the gruff voice. "That would be nice." The other three all agreed, and Corinne walked over to the water spigot in the wall. As she filled four wooden cups, she glanced over her should at her guests. In her youth, a man named Galloran had taught her how to recognize the armor worn by conscriptors, the servants of Maldor. Three of her visitors were outfitted as he had described. The fourth had an eyepatch, which could only mean that he was a displacer. There was no doubt in Corinne's mind: these men had come to kill her. There was only one thing she could do.

Corinne withdrew a small vial of clear liquid from a cabinet on the wall. Making sure that her back shielded her hands from view, she deftly put a drop of the liquid into each cup, then served her guests with a smile. "Here you are." she said sweetly.

"Thank you, miss." Said the third conscriptor politely. Corinne feigned another smile. She had to remind herself that these men were not themselves. If not for the memory-erasing puffballs growing inside the tree, they would have slain her without hesitation.

Suddenly, the lead conscriptor fell face-first into the floor. The others looked at each other in confusion, then one by one, they met an identical fate. Just to be certain, Corinne knelt beside each of them and checked for a pulse. All four of their hearts had ceased beating.

Now came the tricky part: disposing of the bodies. Corinne dragged the first conscriptor out by his wrists. In the tunnel, her memories began to wane. What was she pulling that was so heavy? Oh, right! The conscriptors. She was forcibly reminded of when her mother had died. Her mother? No, Great-Aunt Madeline! She stepped out of the tree into the murky light of late evening on the swamp. Why had she come outside? She looked down at the body she had been dragging and gasped in surprise.

"A conscriptor?" She murmured to herself. "What in the world..? No matter." She shrugged and picked up the man's wrists again. She pulled him to the nearest shore, and then pushed him into the foul water. As she repeated the process with her other would-be assassins, she was grateful for the rigorous muscle conditioning she had put herself through for years.

After the last body had been dumped, Corinne slumped tiredly into her rocking chair and picked up her book. But her mind was whirling. Why had the Emperor suddenly dispatched his minions to slay her? It meant that he had discovered that she protected a syllable of the Word that could unmake him. But how did he find out? She thought of the most recent seekers of the Word, Jason and Rachel. Had hey, along with their mentor Galloran, failed in their quest and been captured? Her stomach clenched unpleasantly at the prospect. But it was the only possible explanation she could think of. A wave of despair washed over her. If Galloran had fallen, then no one was ever coming to get her. She would live in this tree all her life, like her mother, and die all alone. At least her mother had not been alone when she passed away. And with these thoughts, Corinne cried herself to sleep.


	2. Rescue

The next couple of days were dull and uneventful; as they had been before and as they always would be. Corinne spent the greater part of the third day outside with her sword. She studied the dark, gleaming blade in the weak sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves. Her father had given her this sword and had spent much time teaching her how to use it. Would she ever see him again? Thanks to the emperor, it was highly unlikely. Grief turned to anger as she directed her thoughts toward Maldor. If Galloran was dead or captured it was _his_ fault. As Corinne improvised an elaborate routine of all the defensive and offensive maneuvers she knew, she imagined she was battling an army of Maldor's minions. Her rage fueled her endurance like oil on a flame, and after a few hours of practice, she was perspiring and breathing heavily.

Back inside the tree Corinne drew herself a bath, heating the water with the small amount of Edomic she was able to command. The comfortably warm water was not only cleansing, but it relaxed her tight muscles and brought a sense of tranquility to her mind. When she returned to the main room clothed in a fresh blue dress, she jumped in surprise. Two men were standing near the entrance, regarding themselves and their surroundings curiously. Both were tall and looked to be in their mid-thirties. One had red hair and a heavily bandaged hand, while the other had long, dark hair to his shoulders and wore a sword at his waist. They didn't look like Imperials... Perhaps they were new seekers of the Word! Still, it never hurt to be cautious.

"Hello." Corinne greeted them, stepping forward. They turned to look at her in mild surprise.

"Hello." said the red-head amiably, "Who are you?"

"I am Corinne." she supplied, "But I expect you've forgotten who you are."

"As a matter of fact, yes." said the long-haired man, "I don't know who I am, where I am, or why I'm here."

Corinne smiled kindly at him. I can help with that."

She took one of his hands and led him to sit down in one of the chairs. She noticed that his hands were strong and calloused- the hands of a warrior- and hoped that he had not come to kill her.  
"I have to conduct a quick test." she told him, holding up the sack of black material. "But I have to put this on your head."

"By all means." he complied genially. Corinne slipped the material over his head, then quickly drew her dagger and held it to his neck while keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. He suddenly drew a sharp breath. "Where am I? Corinne?"

Corinne was taken-aback that this stranger knew her name. "Yes," she replied hesitantly. "Who are you?"

"I am Drake of the Amar Kabal. King Galloran sent Nedwin and me to retrieve you." He answered quickly.

Corinne's heart skipped a beat and she stood frozen in shock. Could this be true? It was almost too good to believe. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" She challenged.

"Galloran gave me his ring to present as proof." said Drake, holding up his right hand. Corinne glanced at it and couldn't stifle a jubilant cry when she recognized Galloran's mark. She promptly sheathed her dagger, but kept the sack in place. "Where is he?" She asked as tears of joy sprang into her eyes.

"He, along with other members o he rebellion, await us in the Drowned City." Drake informed her, "He will be pleased to find you alive and well."

"Thank you, Drake!" Corinne exclaimed, failing to keep her emotions under control.

"You're very welcome." he replied patiently, "But might I ask why my face is covered?"

Corinne apologized tearfully and removed the sack from Drake's head. The seedman blinked bemusedly for a moment, then his eyes fell upon Corinne. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Corinne explained to him and Nedwin everything Drake had just told her, wiping her tears on the hem of her sleeve.

"Oh," said Nedwin, "So we should probably go, then."

"Yes!" Exclaimed Corinne, "Just let me change into something more appropriate for traveling."  
Corinne rushed into the back room and quickly got into her plain, brown traveling attire. The trousers and blouse were well-fitted but loose enough to provide comfort when moving. The boots she donned were made of gray animal skins with white fur lining. Not only were they elegant, they made mobility easy. Along with a handful of the mushrooms, she decided to pack her cloak in her satchel. Though it was warm in the swamp, it might not be outside of it. Finally, she buckled on her sword and led the way out of the tree.

Corinne halted abruptly out on the island. What was she doing out here? She had already practiced today! Shaking her head, she turned around to go back inside, but there were two unfamiliar men blocking her way. Hand on sword hilt, body poised for action, Corinne backed away. "Who are you and what is your business here?" She demanded.

Realization dawned on the handsomer face of the two, the man with long hair. "Corinne!" He said with a smile, "the absence of the fungi has made you forget us." He then explained that he and Nedwin were there to collect her for her father. He offered the king's ring as evidence.

Corinne couldn't stop smiling. "My father lives?" She asked, "And I can finally leave this tree?" She could hardly believe it! "Wait a moment... Does this mean that Maldor has been defeated?"

Nedwin and Drake shared an uncomfortable glance. "Milady," said Nedwin hesitantly, "Lord Jason succeeded in collecting all six syllables. He was brought before Maldor and he spoke the Word that was to be his undoing. Except... Well, it didn't work. The Emperor still lives and the only weapon we had against him is a fraud."

For a moment all Corinne could do was stare in utter disbelief. The Word, an important secret which she had helped to protect all her life; and it wasn't even worth it. "How can this be?" She finally managed to get out.

"Maldor is a cruel, but clever man." Said Drake, regarding her sympathetically and speaking in low, soothing tones. "The Word was actually meant to destroy Zokar's other apprentice, Orruck. But Maldor quietly spread the rumor that it was his Word, using it to distract and eradicate his enemies." He placed a strong, yet gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know this must be hard for you to hear. I'm sorry we could not have met under happier circumstances."

Corinne nodded and smiled appreciatively at the seedman.

"We should get moving. I expect your father is anxious about you."

An odd sensation of emptiness assailed Corinne as Drake removed his hand from her shoulder. She had been so long without human contact that she found herself missing even that much, and craving more. Sighing inwardly, Corinne followed her rescuers to the muddy shore. Nedwin had found the boat that the conscriptors had arrived in, and opted to use it instead of the smaller craft he and Drake had come in.

As the two men rowed away from the island, Corinne found her heart beating wildly at the thought of reuniting with her father.

"How far away is the Drowned City?" She asked.

"Not far." Replied Nedwin, peering ahead and all around. He pointed to a cloud of maroon gas up ahead. "Cover your nose and mouth from the spores." he handed her a rag, which she tied around her head.

Nedwin had been right about the Drowned City not being far. Soon, Drake and Nedwin were rowing them past enormous stones which used to be pillars. As the boat rounded a curve, a group of people came into view, Galloran being one of them. Unable to contain her excitement, Corinne stood up in the boat and cried, "Father!"

A quiet sob shook Galloran as he turned his blindfolded head toward her. "Corinne?"

"Your daughter lives!" Called Nedwin triumphantly as he and Drake rowed swiftly closer. When they reached the others, Corinne leapt onto the skiff beside her father and threw her arms around him, removing her rag to bestow a kiss upon his face.

"Why the blindfold?" She asked, "What happened to your eyes?"

"I lost my sight." he replied.

"Oh no!" Corinne cried.

"It was long ago. You've grown. You sound like a woman."

"I'm nineteen."

"It's been that long?" huffed Galloran, "My darling, I'm so sorry."

Corinne looked down at her boots, swallowing the rising lump in her throat.

"Tell me what happened to your great-aunt." Galloran said.

"I don't recall much. I wrote myself a note that said 'natural causes'. You'll have to check my other set of memories for specifics."

Corinne reached into her satchel and removed a small brown mushroom. She squeezed it gently and inhaled the gas that was emitted.

Opening her eyes confusedly, she beheld Galloran standing in front of her.

"Galloran!" she exclaimed. Drake must have delivered her safely then.

"What news of the Pythoness?" Galloran inquired.

Corinne sighed and recounted what had happened when her mother had died. Then she told Galloran of the assassins Maldor had sent, and how she'd poisoned them.

"Good girl." Said Galloran. "I'm sorry you had to face such a grim predicament, but I'm proud that you did what was necessary."

Corinne beamed at his praise, though he couldn't see it.

"You still have the sword?" He asked her.

In response, Corinne drew the gleaming blade from its sheath. It rang almost musically as she did.

"Great Prongs of Dendalus!" Exclaimed a man Corinne had not noticed before. He was missing his nose, which led her to believe that he was a displacer. "Pardon the expression," he apologized, "Is that sword what I think it is?"

Galloran unsheathed his identical weapon. "The companion blade to mine."

"They're really torivorian?" Breathed the displacer in awe.

"Wait," said Jason, whom Corinne was glad to see, "Torivorian? As in made by lurkers?"

"The dueling weapons of a torivor." Galloran confirmed, "Most weapons cannot scratch a lurker, but when a torivor comes to duel, it brings weapons that can."

"But if you have the swords, Galloran..." said the nose-less displacer.

"He bested a torivor." Bragged Nedwin.

"What?" Exclaimed Jason, "You killed a lurker?"

"It required all of my skill at the height of my strength." Galloran replied humbly.

"You have been reputed as the finest swordsman in Lyrian," said Drake, "But word of this feat never got out. You should be renowned as the greatest swordsman of all time."

Corinne smiled proudly at her friend and mentor, but Galloran waved a dismissive hand at Drake's praise. "Boasts of past deeds will defeat no new enemies." He said wisely, sheathing the blade."Corinne, put aside the mushroom."

Corinne sheathed her own sword and returned the fungi to her satchel. Her mind felt foggy for an instant... Didn't she just have a mushroom? She blinked to clear her head.

"Are you back?" Galloran asked.

"Yes." she replied.

"Have you spent sufficient time outside the tree?"

"A few hours a day, as we discussed." She told him, "Talking with my great-aunt. Reading. Performing exercises with my sword. Waiting." She tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice with that last one.

"I'm so sorry," Her father lamented, "I didn't mean to fail. I left you in the safest place I could take you. I retrieved you as soon as I could."

"I understand." said Corinne, blinking back tears. She looked around at the group of people; some familiar, some not. "Thank you all for coming for me." She said, truly grateful.

"What now?" Drake asked.

"We load up as much orantium as we can reasonably carry," answered Galloran, "We'll spend the night here, then with the first light of dawn, we'll hurry away from the Sunken Lands."

_Are you awake?_

The words came to Corinne's mind in her father's voice as she lay on her side in the skiff, unable to sleep.

_Yes._ She transferred mentally, rolling over to see Galloran sitting beside her in the darkness.

_I wanted to speak with you, but did not wish to wake the others. _He conveyed. _You have been through an ordeal. The years in hiding were good for you, but it was nonetheless a dismal prison._

Corinne sat up beside him. _It was hardest after Great-Aunt Madeline died. The solitude felt endless. I'm ready to start living. My only memories of an actual life are the blurry recollections of childhood. All I have besides that is what happened on a muddy stretch of island._

_I'll do my best to make it up to you. _Galloran promised earnestly. _Sadly, for the present, we have led you from solitude into peril. But it could not be avoided._

_I'll be all right. Why else have I trained with my sword all these years?_

Galloran reached out and put a strong arm around her shoulders. _I am extremely proud of you and I'm confident in your skill with a sword. I only wish it was not necessary._

Corinne leaned into her father, resting her head on his broad shoulder. He held her close and kissed her forehead. _I love you._

_I love you too. _Corinne smiled as tears rolled silently down her cheeks.


	3. West Gate

Corinne spent the next day learning about the rest of the group. The displacer was named Ferrin, and had supposedly sworn fealty to their cause. Aram, she discovered with much surprise, was a half-giant. During the day he was at least half a foot shorter than her, but at night, he towered over them all. Tark was a husky man with a gravelly voice, and he appeared to be Lord Jason's man. Jason looked to be a few years younger than Corinne, though he was tall for his age. She noticed that he would probably grow up to be rather nice-looking. Corinne caught him looking at her several times during the day; but he would always quickly avert his eyes as though he hadn't been. Rachel looked to be the same age as Jason, and was also a Beyonder.

By dusk, they had reached the edge of the swamp. A series of rising plateaus stood between them and the tall, imposing mountains to the north. Drake, who was most familiar with the region, would be leading the group into the mountains and to the West Gate of the Seven Vales, the stronghold of the Amar Kabal.

At present, the group was gathered around Galloran and his servant Dorsio, where they rested beside a large pile of orantium globes.

"Who gets to carry those?" Rachel asked, indicating the explosives.

"Dorsio will hold them." Said Galloran. "The Amar Kabal are a reclusive people. Once I was welcome in their land; but times have changed. Should all else fail, I hope to bribe our way in. In these perilous times, I can think of no currency more valuable than orantium."

"They'll admit you without a gift," said Drake firmly. "I don't believe my people hold any living human in higher regard."

"I hope you're right," Galloran responded. "There are influential voices among your people who may not appreciate what my presence could represent in these uncertain times. We're all assembled?"

"Yes, sire." Nedwin replied.

"Then we should start our journey," said Galloran. "The sooner we are behind West Gate, the sooner we can rest. I would be surprised if Maldor did not try to apprehend us between here and there. By now he should have anticipated the Seven Vales as our most likely destination."

"The territory between the Sunken Lands and our gates remains uninhabited by treaty," Drake told them. "Imperial troops are only supposed to enter with our permission."

"Maldor understands the stakes," Galloran pressed. "By heading us off, he can suppress a possible rebellion. He has reason to expect that the Amar Kabal won't risk a sortie to enforce the treaty."

"There was a day when he wouldn't have chanced it." Drake murmured darkly.

"Your people have grown even more withdrawn while you've been absent," Galloran said. Corinne glanced at the sharp-faced seedman in the dark, curious about his absence when he seemed to be in defense of his people. Why would he leave them if he cared so much about them?

Drake was frowning. "I won't be much use in persuading them otherwise. I never expected to return. I may find myself even less welcome than Ferrin. By accepting the invitation to Harthenham, I shamed my people. I expect they will vote to exile me."

"If so, you will be in good company." Galloran told him.

Drake huffed. "I don't need their approval. I just wish I were in a better position to advocate your cause."

"First, we need to get there," Galloran said. "No sign of the horses?"

"I've been calling," said Rachel. "But I'll keep trying."

"I know many routes from here to West Gate," Drake said. "By foot or by horse, with a little caution we should be able to cross unobserved."

Galloran arose. "We had best not tarry. I'm afraid there is no rest for the wary."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The night was dark and breezy when Drake called for a halt. Holding a slim finger to his lips, his stance showed concern. Corinne moved silently closer to her father, all senses on alert and ready to defend him. Dorsio, on the king's other side, did the same. Everyone who had weapons drew them as hoofbeats steadily pounded closer.

"All clear!" Nedwin called from an unseen vantage, "They're ours."

Corinne heard Rachel calling Edomic words of encouragement to the oncoming animals, and soon three horses were trotting up to her. One was a soft brown mare, one a muscled black stallion, and the other, an enormous, shaggy-haired stallion, could only have belonged to Aram, an equally hulking man.

Hopping nimbly from a tall boulder, Nedwin rejoined the group. "No sign of the other mounts."

"This is very impressive," Galloran said. "Rachel obviously issued effective instructions. I did not expect to encounter these horses again. I'm afraid they brought some trouble with them."

"Trouble?" Jason asked.

"I sensed a lurker trailing them," Galloran said. "Its presence only touched my awareness for a moment. It came near enough to indentify us, then fled."

"If it ran, there must be soldiers within range." Drake said.

"Then it's a race." Aram said heavily.

"Come along then," said Galloran. "The horses should help us increase our pace."

"You should ride, Galloran." Drake said, "Aram's horse can carry two. I'll use Mandibar to scout." He grabbed the reins of the black stallion. "Rachel, Corinne, you should conserve energy by mounting up as well. You'll be no burden to Aram's horse."

Rachel mounted the strapping steed, and Corinne pulled herself up behind her. She smiled as she adjusted her seat, long-buried memories from her childhood filling her mind… She was perhaps three years old, and her father— younger and without a beard— lifted her up into the saddle in front of him. They had ridden at high speeds, and Galloran had kept a strong arm around her the whole time, protecting her as he always had. Corinne smiled. "It has been a long time." She muttered.

"You rode as a child?" asked Rachel.

"I have fond memories of the activity," Corinne replied. "On this big stallion I almost feel like a child again."

"You and me both." Rachel said. Corinne smiled at the Beyonder's strange dialect. Although she and Jason spoke the common tongue, many of their phrasings and words were strange and sometimes difficult to follow.

The group set off at a decent pace, following the trail as best they could in the faint moonlight. As the night wore on, Tark began to cough. What started as the occasional clearing of his throat quickly turned into a deep hacking. For much of the night his coughing would subside when they paused for a break; but as sunrise drew near, Tark suddenly fell to his hands and knees, coughing and gagging until he hawked up a grotesque, dark-green gob of phlegm. Corinne grimaced as her stomach heaved slightly, and Rachel turned away.

"What does his mouth look like?" Galloran asked.

Jason, who was nearest, looked into Tark's opened mouth; and winced. "His throat looks like it's full of mold. The whole back of his mouth's covered in purplish fuzz."

Corinne wrinkled her nose at the description, glad she wasn't looking at it herself.

"Lungrot," Galloran declared. "Corinne and Rachel should walk for a time. Tark requires the horse."

"I'm fine," Tark protested. "Let the ladies ride."

Rachel had already slipped to the ground. "It'll feel good to stretch my legs." She said.

Corinne followed her example. "I was getting awfully cramped in that saddle."

Tark was coughing again, his body racking.

"Will he be all right?" Jason asked in concern.

"The Amar Kabal have skilled healers for such maladies," Galloran said. "But much will depend on how swiftly we can get him there."

Tark erupted in another fit of coughing. His face turned red, veins stood out on his neck, and he began to vomit. This prompted the company to continue.

Corinne fell into step beside Rachel. She wanted to converse with her, but didn't know how to begin. At last she said, "You seem rather young to be involved with my father."

"Jason and I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter," Rachel said. "It just worked out this way. We can't be much younger than you."

"I'm nineteen."

"How long were you in that tree?"

"Since I was four."

Rachel looked sideways at her, expression thoughtful. "This must all feel really new."

Corinne gave a brief laugh, emphasizing the understatement. "Indeed. I'm not used to company. Or danger. Or changes of scenery." She paused, regarding the hilly landscape in the dim light. She sighed. "I dreamed of escaping for years. Now that I'm free I can hardly believe it. Everything has changed so quickly. I don't quite know how to feel." She glanced over at Rachel, who was smiling sympathetically. Corinne didn't know why, but she felt as though she could trust Rachel. Besides, now that she was talking to another person she did not want to stop. "This might sound silly, but I somehow expected that when I finally did leave the swamp, it would mean the end of my troubles. Father would take me home to a happier, more meaningful life— the hard-earned reward for my patience. I never expected this."

"If it's any consolation," said Rachel. "I never expected any of this either."

Their path became more sloping and rugged, making Corinne's muscles ache. They crested a hill, and Corinne stopped in her tracks, staring in awe. The sun had risen, beams of glorious light shooting through the clouds at dramatic angles, throwing dazzling highlights over the landscape. Corinne's heart was pounding from the climb, giving her experience even more life. This was _amazing_! The swamp had been shielding her from more than she had realized. "Is it always so beautiful?" she asked.

"It's an extra-good one," Rachel replied. "But they're usually pretty nice."

The sun rose higher as they began moving. Corinne yawned, suddenly realizing how tired she was. A dark shape became visible on the horizon, hoofbeats becoming more distinct as the figure drew nearer. Drake rode up astride Mandibar, reining in sharply. Corinne's stomach gave an odd, fluttering lurch when she looked at the seedman, though she couldn't explain why. And was her heart beating faster, too?

"I've spotted our enemies," Drake said, urgency in his tone. "At least forty horsemen, riding hard."

"How close are they?" Galloran asked gravely.

"We're much closer to the pass," Drake replied. "But in shameless defiance of the treaty, they're on the main road and riding hard. They're trying to beat us to West Gate."

"We have to get there first," Galloran said.

"That, or hide in the foothills," Drake suggested. "I know the region well."

Corinne's father shook his head. "If they block us from the pass, with a lurker after us and with Maldor adding more soldiers to the hunt, we'll not stay hidden long."

Drake scowled thoughtfully. "You really think the Amar Kabal will remain idle if Maldor brings a major force to their doorstep?"

"They may complain," Galloran said. "But given their recent behavior, I would be shocked if they intervened directly. Maldor has lulled your people into a very cautious state. Drake, what are the chances of us beating the horsemen to West Gate?"

"Despite our huge lead, they're moving very fast on a good road. It could be close. I rigged three orantium traps along the road. That's what took me so long. When a hoof hits the wrong spot, an orantium globe will send up an unmistakable signal. The explosion might also confuse and slow them, if they think they're under attack."

"There's a thought," said Ferrin. "We have plenty of orantium. A pair of us could set up an ambush along the main road and slow them, buy time for the others."

Galloran frowned. "If we stay together, can we beat the horsemen to the mouth of the pass?"

"Almost certainly," Drake answered. "We're perhaps three hours from the start of the pass. If we exert ourselves, our pursuers couldn't get there before us. But even hurrying, it will require more than an hour to make it up the pass to the gate. They could very well ride us down in the meanwhile."

"Is there a better bottleneck than the pass for an ambush?" Galloran asked.

Drake shook his head. "West Gate was placed in that pass because the way becomes so narrow."

"Let's race them," Galloran decided. "If it comes to it, the tight confines of the pass should allow an ambush to wreak havoc on them with orantium."

Drake folded his arms, his expression brooding. "Once in the pass, there will be no fleeing except through West Gate. If our enemies catch up, or if we're denied admittance, there will be nowhere to hide."

"I am an honorary citizen of the Seven Vales by ceremony," Galloran said. "If the Amar Kabal look on while I'm slaughtered at their gates, our cause is already beyond hopeless."

This discussion was making Corinne feel rather ill. Her stomach was in knots at the prospect of danger, and possibly death. She was not prepared for this. She felt faint, especially at the word "slaughter". She swept perspiration from her brow with a shaking hand.

"Corinne's tired," blurted Rachel.

"I'm fine," protested Corinne, though her weak voice gave her away.

Drake slid from his saddle. "We'll put her on Mandibar." He said, leading the horse over.

Corinne had enough energy left to feel embarrassed. They had gone through the trouble of rescuing her, and now she was slowing them down because she was weak. No! She would _not_ show weakness to these people. "Really, I'm perfectly capa— oh!"

Drake had grabbed her by the waist and hauled her onto Mandibar's back, as easily as if she were a sack of grain. Corinne flushed, her face burning almost painfully. "Please, there's no need for me to ride." She attempted to slide down, but Drake's firm hand on her thigh prevented her from doing so.

"There's every need," he said. "We wouldn't want you collapsing on us, would we?" His pale blue eyes bored into hers insistently. Corinne held his gaze for a moment, then blushed and looked away. She swung a leg over the other side of the saddle to sit properly.

The group began their final sprint. Almost immediately after they set out, Corinne heard her father's voice in her head.

_I understand how frightening this is for you, _he conveyed. _I never intended to lead you into danger._

_ It's all right, _Corinne responded. _I'm fine. It was just the shock of being thrown out of absolutely nothing into… well, into this._

_ Of course. I know you are strong. I am confident in your ability to cope with dangerous situations. It runs in your blood._

Corinne smiled at her father's show of faith in her. It truly helped her to feel better.

After a while in the saddle, Corinne returned to the ground to allow Rachel a turn to ride. The poor girl looked exhausted. They all did. Except for Drake. The wiry seedman strode along with a determined, almost angry expression on his angular face. He looked dangerous, and at that moment Corinne was glad he was on their side. She tried to match his strength, but her aching muscles and burning lungs were slowing her down.

At length they came into view of the road. Drake led them down a gentle slope until they intersected the wide, dirt lane.

"I take it there are no orantium traps ahead of us," Aram said.

"All are behind," Drake assured him. "In fact, it's a favorable sign that the first has not yet exploded."

"I can walk as fast as any of us on level ground," said Galloran. "Let others take my mount."

Tark coughed weakly— a hitching, reedy wheeze, as if his airway were mostly blocked. Rachel, Corinne, and Aram rode as well.

The pass came into view up ahead, a deep gorge that wound up into the imposing mountains. They were not yet to the mouth when a distant boom reached their ears.

"The first trap," said Drake. "We have a chance, but it will be close."

"Onward," urged Galloran, increasing his speed. Corinne felt a stab of worry for her sightless father. What if he stumbled?

_Don't worry about me, Corinne._ He had read her thoughts. Corinne still felt anxious for her father, so she slid from the saddle and jogged beside him, keeping a hand on his arm. The road steepened, and Corinne felt her legs wobble. Jason dismounted so that she and Rachel could ride Aram's big horse.

Suddenly Galloran stopped and held up a hand. The group halted. He craned his neck, tilting his head from side to side. "I sense a presence."

Now that he mentioned it, Corinne was aware of a darkness in the back of her mind. She looked up instinctively to find a distant silhouette atop one wall of the gorge. It jumped, arms and legs wide, and fell hundreds of feet. An instant before impact, the dark figure changed position, landing in a crouch on the road. It made no sound.

The figure had the shape of a man, but seemed to be composed entirely of Shadow. It stood upright, spreading its arms. In unison, the horses reared. Corinne and Rachel slid backward off Aram's stallion. Corinne landed hard, gasping for breath. The horses were bolting away. Tark had fallen with a foot in the stirrup, and was dragged down the road, spewing a dusty contrail before wrenching his leg free. All three riderless horses galloped away down the pass.

"Whatever happens, take no aggressive action involving the lurker." Commanded Galloran. _Be prepared. I may need to use your eyes, _he communicated to Corinne. Drawing his beautiful sword, he strode directly toward the dark figure blocking the road, as if he could see it. _Use your eyes…_ He _could_ see it! Corinne kept her gaze steady on the torivor.

"Servant of evil," Galloran announced. "Stand your ground and meet your ruin, for I have dispatched others of your kind with this blade."

"No," Jason whispered. Corinne bit her lower lip anxiously. Now she _had _to be strong; not for herself, but for her father.

Sword held ready, Galloran advanced without hesitation. Corinne held her breath. When the lurker was almost within reach, it crouched and sprang up against the wall of the gorge, then with another tremendous leap, soared over Galloran to land in a sprint. A dark blur, the figure dashed down the road faster than the horses had run.

Jason was regarding Galloran with astonishment. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"The torivor knew I spoke truth," Galloran said, sheathing his sword. "Unarmed, it would have fallen."

"Tark is injured," called Ferrin, crouching beside the stout man in the road.

"Is he conscious?" asked Galloran.

"No."

Galloran sighed. "Rachel, any chance of calling the horses?"

"I'm trying," she replied.

"Who will carry Tark?" asked Galloran.

"I'll carry him," Drake said, trotting over. Ferrin helped Drake situate Tark over his shoulder. Corinne was, once again, amazed by the seedman's unwavering strength.

In the distance, there was another explosion, closer than before.

"Second trap," said Drake. "They're gaining fast."

As they continued up the pass, the incline steepened, becoming tortuous on Corinne's fatigued muscles. Her breathing became shallow, and little specks appeared on the edge of her vision. But she would _not_ stop. Her life and the lives of the others were at stake. She forced herself to keep moving.

Hooves pounded behind them, and Corinne's heart pounded in panic. But when she turned around to see Mandibar and Rachel's mare, she sighed in relief. Drake hastily draped Tark over Mandibar's saddle. "Corinne," he said. "You should mount up behind Tark to stabilize him."

This time, Corinne didn't object to being tossed into the saddle. She doubted she could have made it up by herself. Galloran mounted the mare, and the group moved on at a faster pace. The third explosion rumbled behind them, sounding much nearer than the previous blasts.

"That one wasn't far behind where we joined the road," Drake said. "They've ridded hard to close this quickly. They may beat us to the gate."

"I can climb the wall of the gorge," Nedwin said. "I see a position where orantium could provoke a rockslide. And I'll be out of their reach. I'll need globes."

Dorsio rapidly prepared a knapsack of orantium.

"There will be negotiations at the gate to gain admittance," Drake said. "Galloran should ride ahead."

"Tark, Rachel, and Corinne will join me," said Galloran. "The rest of you, make sure you have orantium ready."

Rachel mounted the mare in front of Galloran to guide the horse. The way steepened, twisting ever higher into the mountains. At last they rounded a bend, and an enormous fortification came into view at the top of the pass, spanning the length of the gorge. A raised drawbridge made the imposing wall even less inviting. Soldiers could be seen among the battlements atop the gate. A pair of maroon banners, emblazoned with golden peaks, hung from the top of the massive granite wall.

Rachel slowed her mare as they reached the base of the wall, and Corinne drew up beside her. The wall had to be more than fifty feet high, and in front of the base ran a deep trench with spikes bristling along the bottom.

"Are we near enough to address the gate wardens?" Galloran asked.

"If you shout," responded Rachel.

Galloran dismounted and raised his voice. "Hail, children of Eldrin! Could one of you fetch your captain?"

"I am Halak, High Captain of West Gate," a tall figure answered from above. "We have not been ignorant of your approach, traveler. Why have you brought bloodshed to our doorstep when we make it no secret that this gate is sealed to outsiders?"

"Will it not open for an honorary kinsman?"

"Who am I addressing?"

"I am Galloran, heir to the throne of Trensicourt and sworn ally of the Amar Kabal."

The captain paused. "If you speak truth, what errand brings you to the border of our land unannounced?"

"f I speak truth?" Galloran repeated incredulously. He tore the rag from his eyes, revealing his scarred sockets. "I once frequented these vales. The years have not been generous, and I now wear a beard, but does no man recognize my face?"

"My apologies," Halak answered. " Why do you seek entry into our lands?"

"By ceremony, I am a friend of the Amar Kabal. I wish to invoke my right to bring a proposal before the Conclave."

"So you are not seeking passage through this gate to evade imperial pursuit?"

"The riders who pursue us are a consequence of my visit, not the motivation. We set out from Fortaim many days ago with this destination in mind."

"Regardless of your intent, given the circumstances, admitting you could jeopardize our tenuous relations with Felrook."

Galloran replaced his blindfold. "Dozens of imperial solders have invaded neutral territory between your gate and the Sunken Lands to hunt my companions and me. The emperor is in open violation of your treaty already. His horsemen are chasing us up the gorge. Given the opportunity, they will cut us down outside your very gates."

"We're aware of their movements," Halak replied carefully.

"We come bearing a tribute of more than fifty orantium spheres. I imagine you would not relish the idea of these explosives falling into enemy hands."

"A bribe and a threat in the same breath. Which shall I heed?"

"Neither. I am conversant with your laws. Until my friendship status is revoked, it remains my right to pass through this gate at my will."

"I cannot refute your claim. But your privileged status does not extend to your comrades."

"I can vouch for each of my nine companions. We do not seek prolonged sanctuary. Grant us admittance for a week, so that I may bring vital information to your Conclave."

"Who are your companion? I count only three."

"This is Tark, former musician with the Giddy Nine, who requires urgent treatment for Lungrot. He rides with my daughter, Corinne. And we're also joined by a Beyonder named Rachel, a promising Edomic adept."

"And the others?"

"My bodyguard, Dorsio, is not present; nor is my assistant, Nedwin; nor is Ferrin, my chief scout. We also travel with Aram, a smuggler from Ithilum; Lord Jason of Caberton, a Beyonder who has joined the fight against Maldor; and Drake of the Amar Kabal."

"Drake, son of Hessit?" exclaimed Halak. "He accepted an invitation to Harthenham!"

"And recently fought his way free." Galloran added.

"Very well," Halak responded. "You are a man of no small reputation, Galloran. I will admit you and your companions, and you will have your hearing with the Conclave. Be forewarned: It is possible that you are merely stalling your capture rather than evading it."

"We understand."

Halak gave a signal, and the iron-plated drawbridge clattered open at last. Corinne urged Mandibar across the bridge and into the paved yard beyond. A group of at least twenty horsemen, armed with swords or spears, was waiting. Several of the women held longbows. They all had a portion of their hair rolled up at the nape of their necks.

A succession of blasts came thundering up from lower in the gorge. The others had detonated their orantium, then. Corinne hoped they were all right.

Halak quickly descended a stone staircase, one hand resting on the hilt of a sword at his waist. He strode over as Galloran dismounted.

"Trouble follows you up the pass," Halak said.

Galloran faced him, speaking calmly. "Captain Halak, would you send riders to escort my friends who travel afoot?"

"We've monitored the progress of your pursuers," Halak replied. "If we sally forth, it could spawn a major confrontation."

"If you hesitate, imperial forces will murder friendly visitors in the pass outside your gates."

Halak gave a signal, and the riders galloped out of the gates and across the lowered drawbridge. Halak strode over to Tark, parting the musician's lips with his thumbs. "Your comrade is sorely afflicted. You can trust him to our care." Halak held out a hand to help Corinne from the saddle, then handed Mandibar's reins to a woman, who led the horse away.

"Can I make the rest of you more comfortable?" he asked.

"The young ladies, perhaps," Galloran said. "I would rather wait until the others are safe."

"I'll wait too," Rachel said quickly.

"Me too," Corinne agreed. She was exhausted, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to rest until she knew the fate of her companions. They waited in silence, but Corinne could hear her father and Rachel conversing mentally.

After a while, Halak returned. "I've had news. That was a good man you sent up the mountainside. He created enough of a rockslide to block the pass. The horses couldn't cross the rubble, so those who survived continued on foot, but retreated when challenged by our horsemen."

"Everyone is all right?" asked Rachel anxiously.

"Your comrades are on their way," Halak replied warmly.


	4. The Seven Vales

The soldiers at West Gate resided in tunnels chiseled into the mountainside. Captain Halak made arrangements for a meal to be served in his personal quarters. The room where Halak escorted the group to held a long, low table surrounded by twelve mats. An elegant, square storage cabinet stood against one wall. Two round windows and a few oil lamps provided light.

Drake stood beside one of the windows, looking out upon the rolling green landscape and high, snow-capped mountains. He had never expected to lay eyes on his homeland again. When he left all those years ago, he had assumed that he would never return. And now here he was, back for the very reason he had left in the first place.

The others were sitting cross-legged at the food-laden table. Drake grabbed a hunk of bread and then wandered over to the storage cabinet.

"Any chance others are listening?" Ferrin asked.

"Halak assured me a private room," Galloran said. "He understands our need to confer."

Drake opened the cabinet door, snooping around. "That's one explanation for why he left so swiftly. He also may not wish to be accused of consulting with us. I know Halak. Not a bad man, but very careful about his interests."

"He opened the gate," Galloran pointed out.

"As I said," Drake said, closing the cabinet door. "Not a bad man."

"I heard the Amar Kabal have vast caves full of treasure," Aram said.

"Unlike most tales of hidden wealth, that one is true," Galloran said. "The Amar Kabal keep enormous stores of food and valuables in secret caverns. They are a prudent people. The Seven Vales were chosen as a homeland for the highly defendable geography. And fallback strongholds await the seedfolk deep in the mountains."

"Too many of my people obsess about preserving their long lives," Drake griped. "With the threat of Maldor looming, certain shortsighted leaders have preyed on our cautious natures to our detriment. If we continue to avoid confronting the emperor, we may be the last kingdom to fall, but fall we will, and Maldor will burn our seeds."

"If your people will acknowledge that reality, we might obtain the help we need," Galloran said.

"Good luck," Drake huffed. "The fruitless debate influenced my decision to stay away."

Aram held up a vegetable. Having bitten off the end, he scowled in distaste. "No meat?"

"Most of my people avoid meat," Drake told him. "The Amar Kabal want their bodies to be lithe and strong. They also generally eschew addictive substances, including strong drink."

Aram shook his head, stirring his soup idly. "I can't fathom the point of living a hundred lifetimes without beef, venison, and mutton."

"I hear you," Ferrin said. "Then again, these cucumbers aren't bad."

"I heard you discussed a conclave?" Jason asked.

"The Amar Kabal value experience," Galloran said. "They are ruled by a gerontocracy. Their governing body, the Conclave, consists of the eldest living member of the Amar Kabal, together with the next two eldest males and the next two eldest females willing to undertake the responsibility."

"These five leaders will decide whether the Amar Kabal will help us?" Aram checked.

"They get the final word," Drake confirmed. "But they're surrounded by counselors, and any member of the Amar Kabal is free to speak out on any topic. Our leaders listen to the people."

"We need the Amar Kabal," Galloran said. "Their women are the truest archers in Lyrian, their men the most proven warriors. Their commanders possess centuries of experience. And perhaps most important, if they join us, it will become much easier to recruit other nations."

"But first they must stop clinging to their neutral status," Corinne said.

"This is our problem," Galloran agreed. "The inert tend to remain inert."

"It will be an uphill battle," Drake said. "Plenty among us have tried to raise the alarm." _Including me,_ he added silently. _And look how that ended._

"I'm still formulating my strategies," said Galloran. "But I'm in a unique position to promise outside help and to bring fresh perspective to the discussion. And I can proclaim the Word a fraud, thereby erasing an excuse for waiting."

Drake crossed his arms. "You realize that if you fail, there are many among our leadership who would gladly curry favor with Felrook by handing you over."

"I'm aware," Galloran said, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "Tomorrow we travel to Longvale, where the Conclave convenes. The journey will consume most of the day."

"And no meat in sight," Aram grumbled. "What's wrong these people? Those seeds have corrupted their good sense."

Drake chuckled softly to himself as Jason said, "Didn't you hear what Ferrin said about the delicious cucumbers?"

"I kept my legs moving all day with the thought of a hearty roast at the end of the road," Aram sulked.

"I cannot believe you're going on like this in front of the cucumbers!" Corinne chided, taking a deliberate bite of the vegetable and grinning mischievously.

"Corinne, was that joke?" Drake asked in mock astonishment.

She flushed shyly. "My first, I believe," she said.

Drake smiled at her, "Welcome to the real world."

She smiled back, though her youthful face was still rosy with bashfulness. How old did she say she was? She looked rather young, but she wasn't a child. Definitely not a child, with a face as lovely as that… No; best not to think along those lines. He had given up on love long ago, and he wasn't about to set his heart on anyone, especially not Galloran's daughter. Drake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the empty socket where his seed should have been. He knew he didn't have much time left, especially now that he was involved in a war. He knew the stakes. He understood that he wouldn't come out of this alive. But if he survived? He still would have a normal human lifespan left. Perhaps he could finally allow himself to fall in love, settle down and live his remaining years in peace with a loving companion, maybe even a family… No, it was too much to hope for. He couldn't do this to himself. Drake turned from the others and returned to gazing out the window.

The next day, the group was riding down the pass into Broadvale. The expansive valley was sectioned into a patchwork of farmland nourished by an extensive irrigation system. Beneath the warm sun, the group traversed the valley at a relaxed pace. Drake couldn't help but feel at peace in the familiar territory.

The road began snaking up a rise at the far end of the valley. When they topped the slope, another valley spread out before them, running a long way to the east before it seemed to turn a corner. Like Broadvale, Crookvale was using all its available land for agriculture, but this deeper valley also featured a large lake that mirrored the blue sky.

One switchback below Drake and his companions, a pair of riders were ascending out of Crookvale. They looked up, and Drake recognized them with a jolt. One was a young man with a neatly trimmed beard along his strong jaw line. The other was a lovely woman, her large eyes a warm brown.

"Galloran?" she called.

"Is that Farfalee?"

"You have sharp ears." Farfalee urged her horse up the slope, then dismounted.

Galloran dropped to the ground, his broad grin creating a pair of dimples. "I did not expect to greet you until we reached Longvale."

"I couldn't wait," Farfalee said. She walked to Galloran and embraced him.

"Greetings, Galloran," said the young man from his piebald mount.

"Could that be Lodan?"

"Yes, sir."

"He sounds like a man!"

"His First Death ceremony is only weeks away," Farfalee said. "You should attend."

"His First Death? Has it been so long? When I last saw Lodan, he came no higher than my waist."

Farfalee placed a hand on Galloran's arm. "It has been too many years." She looked up at the rest of the group. "I understand that one of you brought my husband's seed to East Gate."

"That would be Tark," Drake spoke up at last. "He remains at West Gate undergoing treatment for Lungrot."

Farfalee regarded Drake coolly. "Why must those who least deserve misfortune suffer the most?"

Drake winked at his sister. "What? No welcome for me?"

"I'm saving my enthusiasm for your departure." She said.

Drake shrugged. "Maybe I'll stay."

"Until you're exiled. Shouldn't take long. It's really just a formality."

"Don't fret, Failie," he said, turning and raising the hair at the nape of his neck. "You'll be rid of me soon enough."

Farfalee gasped, her hands covering her mouth. "Your amar!"

"Karma has spoken," Drake said simply.

Tears shimmered in his sister's eyes. "Oh, Drake. I had no idea."

"What happened to it?" asked Lodan, brows steepled in concern.

"My seed failed to form correctly the last time I was reborn," Drake informed them. "This will be my final lifetime. I'm at peace with notion. I'm not sure any lesser incentive could have convinced me to rejoin the living."

Farfalee plucked uncomfortably at her elk-hide shawl. "Under the circumstances, I imagine I can persuade the Conclave to defer any—"

Drake laughed harshly. "You think I care how the Conclave rules about me? I'd wear exile like a badge of honor. Save your influence for cajoling those old windbags into letting our people survive."

Farfalee sighed tolerantly. "Your charm never ceases to amaze."

Jason looked at Lodan. "Jasher is your father?"

Drake slapped his forehead. "We've skipped introductions! Lodan is the son of Farfalee and Jasher. Farfalee is my eldest sister." Drake went on to introduce his companions. "It was Lord Jason who helped me find the will to forsake Harthenham," he finished with a smile directed at the young lord of Caberton.

"You changed his mind about something?" Farfalee exclaimed. "Surely you must be a sorcerer."

"All I did was provide an opportunity," Jason replied modestly. "Without Drake, we wouldn't have fought our way free."

"My brother has always been handy in a fight," Farfalee said. "The question tends to be whether he'll see it through to the end."

Drake rolled his eyes at the insult, but said nothing. Farfalee continued. "Galloran, is it true you seek audience with the Conclave?"

"I come to discuss matters of great significance."

"Were you aware that I now sit as an elder?"

"You're one of the windbags?" Drake gasped.

His sister raised her eyebrows. "I have fixed your hearing for tomorrow."

"So soon?" Galloran asked.

"Your arrival made waves," Farfalee explained. "We've already received a formal complaint from the emperor. To hear him tell it, you're wanted criminal with blood on your hands. But nobody gives any real credence to the charges. You and the emperor are at war. What concerns some is that the emperor is behaving as though he now has a grievance with us."

"Absurd!" Drake blustered. "The emperor was indisputably in the wrong sending troops up our pass!"

Farfalee eyed him. "I'm certain you can imagine the arguments. It was a small force, obviously not meant to invade the Vales, but rather to apprehend murderous criminals. Outlaws we are now harboring. Modest imperial forces are currently encamped outside the passes to both gates. Maldor demands we turn all of you over immediately."

"Or what?" Drake scoffed. "He'll invade? With what army? The bulk of his forces is currently tied up besieging Kadara! Even with the full strength of his armies behind the endeavor, he wouldn't dare attack us until the rest of Lyrian has been thoroughly cowed."

"But he can openly seek to burn our seeds," Farfalee responded. "He can stop pretending to respect our strength and formally declare war."

Drake shook his head. "That day is inevitable. Why hide from it? Why not commence hostilities while his forces are divided and we might actually have a chance to harm him?"

"You know the concerns," Farfalee sighed. "The longer we have to prepare, the more likely we are to endure the eventual assault. Our warriors would be much more vulnerable on the offense than on defense. If the emperor wants a fight with us, he'll have to best us on familiar battleground that we've been prepping for centuries."

Drake chuckled cynically. "The only catch being that if we have no offense, we can't _win_."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Farfalee said. "But many among us would rather delay the confrontation for as long as possible. They imagine that our defenses could prove so strong that Maldor will ignore the Vales and content himself with governing the rest of the continent."

"Lunacy," Galloran grunted.

"Agreed," Farfalee said. "Maldor's ambition knows no bounds."

Galloran spoke gravely. "Let him finish with the other kingdoms of Lyrian, give him time to craft the attack of his choosing, and these Vales will burn."

Farfalee arched an eyebrow. "I take it this will be the subject of the Conclave?"

Galloran gave a nod. "Indeed. I intend to argue that the Amar Kabal should terminate their treaty with Maldor and actively rebel against him."

Farfalee placed a hand on his shoulder. "Should your motion fail, your opponents among my people will seek to turn you over to the emperor."

"I understand the stakes. What are the chances of success?"

Farfalee frowned. "Unfavorable. The climate here grows ever more cautious. None wish to acknowledge the threat the emperor could pose in fifty years. Some are talking of flight."

"Preposterous!" Drake blurted. "Where would they flee? The northern hinterlands?"

"Some have suggested as much. Others have spoken of exploring the far reaches of the western ocean."

"Why not a ladder to the moon?" Drake proposed. Honestly, what was wrong with his people? They had become much worse since his departure.

Galloran reached for his horse. "If the Conclave intends to hear me on the morrow, we ought to keep riding."

Corinne sat at the edge of the lake, enjoying the fresh sights and smells as she ate her mid-day meal. After a while, Jason joined her on the rock she was using as a seat.

"I can still hardly believe we made it here," she said.

"It looked bleak," Jason agreed. He motioned toward the lake. "This sure beats angry soldiers trying to kill you."

"I would take the soldiers over the swamp," Corinne said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Even when I was exhausted and frightened that we were going to die, part of me kept insisting how pleasant it was to be actually doing something."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "You must have had a serious case of boredom."

"It may sound ridiculous, but I truly felt that way." She sighed, looking around at the gorgeous landscape. "After all the loneliness followed by the danger, these Vales feel even more heavenly."

"I'll agree with that," Jason said. He fell silent for a time. Corinne wanted to say something , but didn't know what. Why must she always be so… awkward?

"You did well," Jason said at last. "I was impressed you could keep up."

"Why?" asked Corinne, mildly offended.

"Because I was worn out, and I can't imagine you've had much exercise in a long time."

"More than you might think. The exercises Father prescribed for me were quite rigorous, and I performed them every day."

"With your sword?"

"Mostly. You'd weep for me if you knew how much I've swung my sword at nothing. I am quite the expert at dispatching imaginary foes."

"I bet. Show me your routine."

He wanted her to..? Her cheeks flushed as she looked over her shoulder at the others. "Not here, in front of everyone."

"Why not?"

Corinne arched an eyebrow. "Would you want to?"

"Good point."

"Ask me later, when I won't make such a spectacle." She told him.

"Ferrin sometimes trains me in swordplay," Jason said. "He's really good. Maybe you could join us sometime."

Corinne smiled. "Perhaps."


End file.
